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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914194">Songbirds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/savethetribbles/pseuds/savethetribbles'>savethetribbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vulcan Kisses, Vulcan flu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:14:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/savethetribbles/pseuds/savethetribbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5+1 ~</p><p>Playing around with five times Leonard cared for Spock and one time Spock cared for Leonard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Preface</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Having fun &amp; getting to know my OTP. Unbeta'ed :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leonard had fucked around at the Academy, sure. Who hadn’t? His wife, <em>ex</em>-wife, was making love to a forty year old with a perfectly trimmed beard at the exact same time, after all. Leonard didn’t like being second best.</p><p>But he was so bad at dating, he knew it. Even Jim knew it, much to the kid’s sick delight. Oh, Leonard had been mortified when Jim popped in on his second date with Lyra, a friend of his on his arm. <em> A double date! Too cute. Right, Bones? </em> Leonard had already been sweating it, folding a scrap piece of paper into smaller and smaller squares like a maniac.</p><p>“Bones had a dog growing up!” Jim had exclaimed, having finally grabbed onto the vine Leonard needed to swing into a successful conversation.</p><p>Leonard had nodded, drained his beer. “Uh, yeah. Buttercup. A pug. Great dog. I mean, she was a pug so it was weird, you know. But a great dog.” He nodded again, felt himself slipping off the cliff. Probably literally sweating. “Really weird dog, actually, and sad. She ended up dying from this horrible anal infection.”</p><p>But that was years ago now, and Leonard, despite his bone-deep loneliness, hadn’t been doing anything remotely romantic on the Enterprise. Even on shore leave, it felt dirty, strange -- to just meet someone in the middle of nowhere? He felt like an old man. Or like a young man looking up at his old man, watching him twirl his mother around in the kitchen, both of them in their bathrobes. In love with her.</p><p>He definitely wasn’t dating on the Enterprise. He couldn’t imagine the agony. <em> CMO creates such an awkward evening for Ensign X that she asks for a transfer</em>. Or <em> ‘CMO wouldn’t stop talking about his dead dog on our date and now I can’t go to the doctor,’ says crewmember</em>. So it was hard for him the first time Spock appreciated one of his jokes and smiled at him. (Well, Leonard thought it was a smile. More of an eye thing than a mouth thing. But he had been getting pretty good at distinguishing Spock’s eye-things (for better or worse), and fuck Geoffrey M’Benga for saying otherwise.) Even harder still when Spock would swoop up right behind him when they were consulting with Jim, so close that Leonard felt the string that held him from leaning into Spock’s chest splitting. A feeling so familiar that it was almost as if he had ever leaned on someone in his life -- which he had, of course, not. </p><p>Still, he persevered. Spock was off limits at best. Or, anyway, that was the mantra Leonard repeated every night before drifting off.</p><p>But then Spock and a team of science officers were beaming down into the heart of a natural disaster and Leonard was hurrying to finish outfitting them, to finetune their protective equipment. “This is fucking insane, quintessential frivolous risk, I swear, I can’t believe y’all are doing this --” he muttered on and on under his breath, testing the functional aspects of Spock’s biosuit.</p><p>“Doctor.” Spock interrupted. Leonard jerked his gaze up to meet Spock’s, expecting a fight or at least Spock’s tight lips and stony eyes. Instead Spock was looking right into him, real soft, with that damn smile -- or whatever it was. He realized then that Spock had grabbed his wrist to stop the movement of his fingers across Spock’s suit, but he didn’t jerk away. Leonard suddenly couldn’t find the air to say anything back, but his aura of shock and awe must have done the trick.</p><p>Spock smiled for real, an almost imperceptible thing, and discreetly moved his hand down Leonard’s arm to stroke his gloved fingers against Leonard’s exposed ones.</p><p>“We are not insane,” he insisted, his hand dropping away. “But we will be back soon. Now, if you’ll please excuse me.”</p><p>And so, basically, Leonard was fucked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leonard McCoy did very little actual medicine on a regular basis aboard the Enterprise. It was a shock at first -- the pencil-pushing. The crew evaluations, the wellness initiatives, Medbay management, the academia, the Captain. The Captain, for god’s sake -- advising him was a full-time job in itself. No, Leonard had very little time for the practice itself; that was mostly left to his handpicked First Officer, Surgeon, Physician, and so on. And because they were Starfleet’s best, Leonard never worried to leave his crew’s care in their hands. But emergency medicine was different. </p><p>There was no hesitation, of course, no question, when the message came through that an away team of twelve (all science, a few security) had been attacked. Triage teams were set up to receive incoming patients in both transporter rooms. Leonard prepared alongside his ship’s surgeon Horatio, Horatio’s team. The away team manifest was applied to the Bay. Leonard’s heart beat slowly in his chest, he breathed easily, he felt the seconds pass. And then he heard <em> Commander Spock </em> through the babbling brook of his own mind, closely followed by a minute stab of panic. Impaled, left upper quadrant. Object intact. </p><p>In Leonard’s experience there was no stopping the feeling that came with an emergency procedure, especially when the patient was familiar. There was only suppressing and ignoring it -- and there, in that place, was where fingers shook, hearts beat faster, and patients got hurt. So he let it roll over him, invited it in while he scrubbed up. The image of Spock’s fingers pressed shyly against his own when he left his quarters in the morning. The meticulous way he stirred extra honey into his tea. </p><p>And then Spock was there, back in front of him, this time with what appeared to be a naginata gored through him and smears of green all around. </p><p>“Doctor,” he gasped, blood at his lips and a dazed look in his eyes. </p><p>“Commander Spock,” Leonard replied calmly, working quickly to assess the injury. He nodded to his anesthesiologist and then leaned over Spock, rested his hand gently on his head. “You’re alright now. We’ve got you.” </p><p>Spock nodded drowsily, blinked into the shadow of McCoy’s gauzy form. An easy calm descended. </p>
<hr/><p>He supposed it would take a full cycle, if not longer, for Spock to regain consciousness. Leonard hadn’t necessarily planned to wait around, but alas. Especially once Spock entered into his healing trance; well, McCoy just hadn’t been able to tear himself away. His alpha shift extended into beta, delta, then into the damn graveyard. </p><p>“Are you sure, sir?” Lieutenant Powell asked upon arriving to gamma. To which Leonard replied, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Lieutenant.” </p><p>He stationed himself at a desk in clear view of Spock’s bed, continuing his work. Glanced as casually as possible to the Vulcan’s biobed throughout the night. Had a cup of coffee. Found himself fifteen hours into his shift thinking about the one time he had seen Spock yawn. </p><p>Of course, the moment he resolved to abandon course at the start of the next shift was the moment Spock’s vital signs started to accelerate, when his eyelids began to jump above a waking mind. Leonard busied himself around his bed, muttering. <em> A sadist’s timing, the gentleman’s luck, damn tricky trance, unpredictable</em>.</p><p>“Encouraging sentiments with which to wake, Doctor. Thank you.” </p><p>Leonard’s head swiveled around to face Spock, eyes wide. A litany of caustic responses came to mind, but he found that his lungs were empty of the air he needed to say them. He stared dumbly down at the amused eyes blinking up at him for a full beat while the weight of some pressure flew off of him. How hadn’t he noticed it was there before? He felt weightless and disoriented in its absence. </p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p>McCoy felt caught, cheeks red, and he scanned the room in case anyone else had noticed. When he felt safe that they hadn’t he risked a glance back, swallowed. </p><p>“Yes, well.” His voice was gruff as he moved toward Spock, tricorder in hand. “Count yourself lucky that I’m in such a friendly mood. I’m real disappointed in how close you came to getting yourself killed.” </p><p>Spock hummed, brows drawn down and lips twisted by discomfort as Leonard tenderly examined his wound. </p><p>“I can give you something for the pain,” Leonard offered gingerly, almost a whisper. As if controlled by some foreign compulsion, he pressed the tip of his fingers featherlight against Spock’s temple. Spock’s eyes fluttered closed and Leonard watched his own fingers move down the Vulcan’s defined cheekbone, jaw, back up to the curve of his ear. </p><p>A throat cleared and Leonard jerked out of his reverie to find Jim there, grinning massively. “Gentlemen,” he greeted, taking a seat by Spock’s bed and staring straight into Leonard’s eyes. “Just came to see how the patient was doing, Doctor.” </p><p>Leonard opened his mouth to really dig in and then realized he felt Spock’s skin against his fingers, unmoved by Jim’s interruption. He recoiled, embarrassed, only to find Spock still gazing straight up at him, head turned into his touch, eyes soft. </p>
<hr/><p>“So,” Jim started, legs crossed and torso leaned over the pair’s table in the officer’s lounge. Leonard felt himself instinctively lean away, reaching for his ale to hide his flushed cheeks. “How long have you and Spock been making love to each other?”</p><p>Leonard choked, coughing beer out onto their table. “Jim!” he gasped. But Jim was already busy howling with laughter by then -- slapping the table and clutching his belly. Onlookers looked on and  Leonard scowled around until the attention dispersed. He retrieved a towel and another drink. </p><p>“I can’t believe you,” he rebuked sharply, voice quiet, as he mopped up the beer. Jim was still bursting with delight, smiling ear to ear, eyes wet. </p><p>“Well?” Jim insisted, taking the wet towel and dumping it into a nearby laundry receptacle. </p><p>“I’m not fucking Spock, if that’s what you’re asking,” Leonard answered, vitriol on his breath as he took a strong sip. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, you gossip.” </p><p>“I hate to break it to you, Bones, but.” Jim sucked in a breath through his teeth and turned his head suggestively. “Protocol says it is my business. So dish.” </p><p>The Captain had him. Leonard leaned onto the table with his elbows and gave his best pout. “We’re just … We’re not seeing each other, Jim. Really.” He sighed, avoided Jim’s gaze. “We have breakfast together and sometimes we -- we -- ” He caught Jim’s eye quickly and sighed again. With his voice as low as it could go, he confessed: “We hold hands.” </p><p>“What?” Jim asked, eyes glittering expectantly. After a second his face caught up to his question and shaped around his confusion. “You hold hands?” </p><p>“Lower your voice!” Leonard snapped in a whisper. He scrubbed his hands over his flaming face. “Yes, we hold hands! Are you happy now?” </p><p>Jim’s expression transformed into something soft and genuine as he leaned back in his chair. “Thrilled, even, Bones. Like, impossibly happy.” </p><p>Leonard rolled his eyes and leaned back too, sour. “I suppose you’ll want to taunt me now.” </p><p>“No.” Jim bumped his foot against Leonard’s and smiled at him, a sweet thing. After a moment of companionable silence he asked, “You like it?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Leonard admitted after a brief second of distrust. He allowed himself to smile back at Jim, happy to say it aloud. “Yeah, I do.”</p>
<hr/><p>If anyone was surprised that Leonard volunteered to help Spock settle into his quarters, they sure didn’t say so. It was technically unnecessary, and usually an ensign’s job to, if anything, walk with the released patient back to quarters, make sure they didn’t have any questions. But Leonard’s shift was over and he was heading out anyway, so why not.</p><p>He stayed a healthy distance away from Spock’s door when they arrived at his quarters, not wanting to seem presumptuous. When the door opened Spock turned to gesture him in. </p><p>“No, I shouldn’t.” Leonard refused with a shake of the head, berating himself inside. The curse of the gentleman fool.</p><p>Spock raised his eyebrows, confused. “I don’t understand. Did you wait until the very end of your shift to release me from Sickbay and then go out of your way to walk me here, only to not come inside?”</p><p>Leonard blushed furiously and rubbed the back of his head, skirting his eyes around the corridor to avoid Spock’s stare. “You are exhausted,” he replied. “I wanted to make sure you were ok on your feet. Really, you should get some rest -- ”</p><p>“Doctor,” Spock interrupted. Was that a sternness in his voice? He gestured to his quarters again, this time more forcefully. </p><p>And Leonard had always been a quick learner, especially when rebuke was involved. He swept on in. </p><p>It wasn’t like it was his first time in Spock’s quarters, or even his first time in Spock’s quarters with the specific intent of making sure he was comfortable during recovery. But now Leonard felt fucking sweaty, nervous. He bustled around the intimate space while Spock changed into his sleepwear, replicating Spock’s favorite soup, tea, water; setting up the pillows on his bed for optimal recline; fussing with the temperature control in case Spock was still cold from the abrasive temperatures in Sickbay. He thought about the bubble of blood that popped out of Spock’s mouth when he had tried to talk to him. He thought about Spock’s heart in his hands as he squeezed it over and over, a last-ditch effort to restart it. </p><p>He jerked to attention when he felt Spock behind him, reaching out to touch his side. “Jesus!” he skittered, curling away from the touch before he had a chance to steady himself, to sweep the gruesome images in his mind under the rug. He straightened his shirt and huffed out a laugh, apologized. His eyes swept over Spock’s body, his loose-fitting thermal pajamas, and his mouth felt dry. “You look comfy.” </p><p>“Yes.” Spock’s eyes searched Leonard’s face, amused. He reached out to touch his uniform with more purpose, content to be really quite in Leonard’s space. “Would you join me?”</p><p>Leonard guffawed, unable to catch himself. “No, no,” he insisted. He stepped out of Spock’s reach and moved to open the covers of his bed, to gesture Spock in. “I’m your attending physician, Spock. Now, why don’t you get a little shut-eye.”</p><p>And Spock, feeling genuinely exhausted, acquiesced. All tucked in, he gazed up at Leonard under his fine black hair, his thick eyelashes. His eyes were drowsy. </p><p><em>Fuck</em>, McCoy thought, feeling trapped. Spock continued to stare at him, blinking slowly, until Leonard finally broke with a sigh to the end of the earth. “Fine,” he bit out, standing from the bed and stepping out of his pants. He hurried onto the bed, vulnerable, and stayed rigid with tension as Spock positioned against him. </p><p>“Leonard,” Spock breathed out, unperturbed by Leonard’s gentile hesitance. He relaxed into his chest. </p><p>“That’s good,” Leonard replied, his voice clinical even as his blood sweltered. He wrapped his arms around Spock, thoughtful of his wound. </p><p>Five minutes, maybe an hour, maybe five hours passed as Leonard held Spock against him. He began to loosen under the warmth of Spock’s skin and his fingers started to roam over his chest, his arm, his neck. As his hands wandered, so did his mind. He imagined the ferocity of the attack, the strength it must’ve taken to fight through Spock’s defenses and gore him through. All the way, in the front and out the back. What had been on Spock’s mind at that moment? Why did he let that happen to him? </p><p>Spock turned his head and pressed his nose into Leonard’s neck. “You are troubled.” </p><p>Leonard sighed shakily in response. He apologized again and steadied his breath, willed himself away from the edge. “I’ll confess that I’m having a hard time thinking of much except how close you were to dyin’ on that table. And now.” He laughed. “It seems unreal that we’re here, right now, in this moment together. <em> Cuddling</em>.”</p><p>“And yet, we are.” Spock’s tone was easy, confident. Leonard could feel how relaxed, how pliant he was under his hands. “It’s illogical to bear the weight of something that did not pass.”</p><p>Leonard’s hand stilled mid-pet and he shook his head, immediately annoyed. “It’s called caring about you, you green-blooded maniac. What’s illogical is that right there -- that I care about you, when you can’t even understand why the thought of you being dead has me all tore up!”</p><p>“Tore up,” Spock repeated. His words dripped with humor as he sat up and away from Leonard with a wince. “Your verbiage is as lively as ever.”</p><p>“Spock!” Leonard frowned deeply. He turned towards Spock in the bed and held his hands in his lap, suddenly freezing. “Stop teasin’ me. You scared me, alright? I’m still scared, especially sittin’ in this damn bed with you. And you’re wearing <em> pajamas </em>-- ”</p><p>He was cut off by lips very abruptly against his own, long fingers right under his jaw. Leonard’s instinct was to pull away -- half concerned, half pissed -- but Spock’s mouth felt like velvet, and everything else melted away under its persuasion. His hands reached to hold Spock’s shoulders, back, neck, and he kissed him with a surreal familiarity. There was no timidity as he rolled the edge of Spock’s ear between his fingers, or as he opened his mouth to Spock’s tongue exploring against his own. </p><p>His senses returned only just when his palm fell to squeeze Spock’s ass and he hissed. “Oh, shit,” Leonard mumbled gruffly, his voice steeped in pleasure. He moved his hand away and looked down to Spock’s wound, apologetic. </p><p>“No, it’s -- it’s not the wound,” Spock whispered. His face was wide open as he watched Leonard take in the outline of his erection, watched him draw two fingers up its length from base to tip with a curator’s curious care. </p><p>Leonard felt a thrill run through him that wiped his mind clean, stood his hair up, set his teeth on edge. “Get comfortable,” he ordered once he was sure he could speak. He pressed Spock’s shoulder back against his pillows, helped him ease onto his back, nipped at and sucked on Spock’s fingers as he reached for Leonard, tried to pull him back in. Once he was down Leonard settled on his knees between Spock’s thighs and drew his shirt off, held his own heavy and full cock in his hand through his shorts. His hips rocked forward when he squeezed it, gazing down at Spock as he splayed under him. Black cotton against gray sheets. Spock’s shirt was askew on his belly, a white bandage peeping out under his rib; his pants riding low with a pointed shadow; his cheeks splotched green and his hair mussed by wandering hands. Leonard licked his lips. “I’m gonna be gentle,” he promised, moving his hands down to draw Spock’s shirt up over his nipples, to draw his bottoms down to his knees.</p><p>And true to his word, he was. <em> Honey, darling</em>, he chanted like a prayer under his breath, peppering kisses around every available bit of Spock’s skin, cautious still of his injury. He traced Spock’s dick through thin fabric and the very impression of it sparked an electric storm in him. He could feel Spock’s blood pounding in every vein and pressed a gentle kiss to his side. “We should stop if you’re hurting. It might be too much.” </p><p>But the pain was distant to Spock, swept away by waves of need. His fingers clutched onto his bed as his knees spread wider and his toes curled. “Leonard,” he warned, voice tortured as his dick jerked under exploratory touches. </p><p>Leonard hummed in acknowledgment and leaned up to kiss him again. He caught Spock’s eye when he pulled back and couldn’t help but laugh at the vision, perhaps gone mad. Spock gave him a curious look that Leonard hurried to kiss away. </p><p>“Can you feel me?” Leonard asked, resting his forehead against Spock’s and reaching for his hands, pulling them to his chest.</p><p>“Yes.” Spock pressed his hand against Leonard’s heart while the other held his side. He looked into Leonard’s eyes gravely. “It’s fascinating.” </p><p>“Oh baby,” Leonard cooed, still laughing. He brought Spock’s hands to his mouth before moving down his body, eventually wrapping his lips around the head of Spock’s cock. Spock moaned as Leonard licked his way down around him, felt the blood explode through his body as Leonard pressed his face down to Spock’s hilt and sucked. </p><p>He pulled up with a devilish grin and wiped the corner of his mouth against Spock’s hip. “You don’t know fascinating yet.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm watching The Animated Series right now and it's giving me <i>a lot</i> of feelings</p><p>Kudos and comments are much appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Something a little fluffier :) Unbeta'ed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you’ve gotten used to sleeping with a radiator in the bed, it just isn’t the same when the radiator’s gone. Leonard supposed he’d gotten spoiled by the luxury of sleeping with little on while being warmed through by the back against his chest, the fingers covering his own. Now he was curled up like a dead bug, thick thermals, wool socks. Damn near frozen to death. </p><p>Not for much longer, at least. Spock was at a nearby Starbase meeting with a Vulcan science team while the Enterprise charted an open cluster. Already a week in, but shore leave was next. Leonard would beam down with Jim and the crew in a few days, and then Spock would shuttle in a day or so after that. Medbay’s staff was caught off guard at first by the evolution of McCoy’s mood -- a brusqueness at the beginning that morphed into wide smiles, pats on the shoulders, ready praise. </p><p>“You excited to see Mr. Spock, sir?” M’Benga asked one morning, eyeing Leonard’s private delight as he checked over Ensign Totasu’s biobed reconfiguration. </p><p>Leonard cleared his throat and glanced back at his XO, unabashed. He winked as he replied, “Shut your mouth, Geoffrey.” </p><p>Moments later, at his desk and finalizing the reconfiguration report, he decided to release some of the air built up around his heart. He opened his personal PADD and pulled up his few and far between messages to Spock.</p><p><em> Spock. </em> He pressed send, rubbed his fingers over his lips. <em> Remember when you tried cheddar grits? </em></p>
<hr/><p>Avalis was Leonard’s favorite pleasure planet, very Mediterranean. In keeping with the effect he took a mudbrick cottage by the sea and immediately set to the business of relaxing: sunscreen, small shorts, no shoes, and a mint julep. And, well, Jim. And Uhura, and Sulu, and Chekov, and Scotty. And Chapel, M’Benga. And basically the entire crew. He relaxed into his chair and tried not to fret that Jim brought the crowd to him on the same afternoon that Spock was supposed to arrive. </p><p>“Bones,” he heard in the corner of his mind. He snapped to and found Jim standing over him, wiggling his toes in the sand. “Can I bury you in the sand? For my birthday.”</p><p>An incredulous laugh ripped out of him and he took a deep swig of his drink. “You’re fucking insane, kid. Your birthday was months ago.” </p><p>“I’ll take that to mean you’ll consider it.” </p><p>A new voice answered from behind him. “An interesting proposition for another day, Captain.” Leonard jerked around to find Spock there, fully uniformed, smiling a small thing down at him. “Leonard and I already have plans for today.” </p><p>“Spock,” Leonard gasped, all thought swallowed up by the surprised pleasure. He remembered himself quickly. “Yes! Yes, plans. For which we’re already running late.” Leonard swallowed around his ecstatic expression and then drained his drink, thrust the empty glass into Jim’s hand. Spock raised his hand to the greetings called over to him at the same time that Leonard waved them off, already mobilizing away from the group. Jim shook his head, amused.</p><p>“Welcome to Avalis, Spock!” Jim called to their backs. “Wait, Spock, wait!”</p><p>Spock and Leonard both turned around at the call. Jim couldn’t help but laugh at the vision -- Spock in his Science blues, expression curious; and Leonard in his daisy dukes, pissed. He shouted, “How was the conference?”</p><p>“Fuck off, Jim,” Leonard yelled back, grabbing for Spock’s hand. Spock tilted his head, perplexed, but allowed himself to be dragged away. </p><p>“Enjoy your plans!” </p><p>And Leonard planned on doing just that, posthaste. He already had Spock pressed against the inner wall of his cottage’s patio, record timing, and was pulling his uniform over his head. He ran his hands over Spock’s black undershirt, anchored by relief, thinking loudly: <em> Finally</em>. </p><p>Spock grabbed Leonard’s hands to still them. The salty, warm air wrapped around them like a mist and the delighted, blissfully distant voices of the crew filtered in. Leonard’s lips parted when Spock rubbed his knuckles against his cheek, leaned his temple into his hand. He leaned up to kiss him but stopped short when a specific sensation dawned on him -- that his fingertips were pressed against something too warm, something actually hot. </p><p>“Well, I’ll be damned.” Leonard pulled all the way back, hurried off of Spock and into the shadow of the cottage. “Is there a reason why you should have a fever right now, Mr. Spock?”</p><p>“I don’t believe I do,” Spock replied, following Leonard into the cottage all the same. He sat down at a table by the door while the doctor dug through his Medkit, wondering if maybe he did feel a bit off-kilter. </p><p>Leonard returned seconds later, tricorder in hand. “You definitely have a fever,” he confirmed. Spock detected a healthy dose of disappointment in his tone. “But I’m not surprised you didn’t notice.” He clapped a hand on Spock’s shoulder and sat the tricorder down. “Looks like you caught a case of the Vulcan flu. Probably right at 48 hours ago at that damn conference, if it’s just a low fever starting to set in.”</p><p>“Oh.” Spock slumped minutely in his chair and looked back out to the patio, to his Science shirt laying discarded on the ground. He turned back to Leonard, who was already taking a medical-grade mask out of his Medkit for himself. “That is … unfortunate.” </p><p>“Tell me about it.” Leonard sat at the table next to Spock and rested his elbow on the table, sloped into it heavily. “The booster we gave you at your last physical should keep it from being serious, at least. You’ll probably be sick through the leave, though.” </p><p>Spock was quiet as he considered the news. He had had the flu as a child, of course, but only twice in the past 30 years. He could recall the general symptoms but it had been long enough that he couldn’t <em> recall </em>them, anticipate them. He sighed and stood from his chair. “We should not be together. I will return to the Enterprise.” </p><p>Leonard grabbed for his hand and held him still. “Now, now,” he cooed. He pulled Spock over, sat him on his lap. “The way I see it, there are a few options. You could go back up to the ice-box Enterprise and soak in some artificial vitamin D, sit alone in your quarters, and feel bad. Or you could stay here with me, let me take care of you, enjoy some real sun, and have a reason to avoid socializing.” Spock opened his mouth to retort and Leonard flashed him a look over his mask, brows raised all up. “And don’t you worry about me. Almost impossible for me to catch your flu anyway, but in case my inoculation doesn’t catch any residuals I’ll stay masked up. How’s that?”</p><p>Spock frowned deeply and looked into Leonard’s eyes. “You should not forfeit your leave. You expressed how eager you were for the escape.” </p><p>“I was eager to be with you,” Leonard corrected, blushing under the sentiment, the color creeping up his temples. He leaned forward to kiss Spock’s nipple, chilled by his fever and standing at salute under the cloth of his shirt. He was embarrassed enough with their newness that he kept his face pressed against Spock’s chest there, holding him. </p><p>Spock flossed Leonard’s fingers through his own with one hand and held to Leonard’s back with the other. “Then I am eager to stay.” </p>
<hr/><p>Spock looked at the photo of their trip often. Taken by Scotty, himself and Chekov slumped in a couple of beach chairs, enjoying pina coladas. “Are they serious?” Scotty had laughed, snapping the image. “I believe McCoy’s rubbin’ his feet!” Which he was.</p><p>Spock remembered only a little of the stay, due to the haze of his ailment; but the photo helped him fill in some gaps. Himself enjoying one of many naps, bare-chested and long-legged, with a hat on over a pair of sunglasses in the shade of his umbrella. Leonard, sitting right outside of the shade, revealed body splayed out, looking out over the sea, meditative. Spock’s feet on his lap and a sign five yards away that read <em> Vulcan Flu - Give us some space. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are much appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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